Deepest Darkest Shadow
by ericapeace1
Summary: Pursued by shadows and hunted by the Chitauri, Loki reveals to Odin what happened after his fall from the Bifrost. Also continues to after the Avengers. Eventual Frostiron.


OK, this chapter is being typed on my brand-new, awesometastic computer. It's awesome and amazing and I love it. It's fun to type on.

I'll try to be prompt with updates for as long as I can!

On with the chapter!

* * *

"I want you to be truthful to me, Loki Odinson," came Odin Allfather's powerful voice. "I want you to tell me the tale of what happened during your fall from the Bifrost."

Loki sneered up at him from his position on the floor, kneeling before the King of Asgard, who was seated on his throne. Chains encircled his arms, the same chains that the Man of Iron has forged on Midgard. The gag had been discarded for the duration of Loki's trial, but he had no doubt that if he spoke wrongly, they would bring it out again in a heartbeat.

"You ask for truthfulness from the God of Lies?" he asked, his voice hoarse from long disuse. "Such foolishness, Allfather."

The crowds surrounding the throne stirred, their mumbling sounding like the hum of a thousand bees. Loki smirked more widely at that.

"No, Loki," Odin's response wiped the smirk from his face. "I ask for truthfulness from my son and the Prince of Asgard."

The crowd stirred again at that. Loki recovered after only a moment of shocked silence. "You would call me, the would-be King, the would-be conqueror of Midgard, and the would-be son of Odin, such things? Remember, Allfather, I am not truly your son nor truly Aesir." Despite his magic being bound, Loki was able to allow the Jotun-blue skin he kept hidden show for a brief moment, drawing shocked gasps from the audience.

"You forget, Loki, it is I who took you in, raised you, allowed you to study magic, knowing all the while your true heritage. Do you think that for a moment I did not consider you truly my son?"

"Ah, there's the rub," Loki spat. "_Allowed_ me to study magic. You did not truly want a Frost Giant taught magic, any more than you wanted me to be King of Asgard."

Odin frowned thunderously. "Do not presume to know my reasoning, Loki. You have always been important-"

Loki laughed, cutting him off. "Yes, I know. I have been important to your _plan,_ to your vain hopes that one day I could be used as a pawn to end all wars with Jotunheimr."

Odin flinched and rose to his feet, pounding Gungnir on the marble dais to call for silence amongst the roar of outrage from the onlookers. "Enough!" he thundered. "You may be a Jotun and you may not be my son by birth, but you should know, Loki, that I never considered you as a pawn. When the time was right, I planned to tell you and then you would be free to decide how to proceed. It was never my wish that you found out as you did. Court is dismissed for today. Guards, escort Loki Odinson to his old chambers. I wish to talk with him there."

His old rooms were exactly as he had left them, papers strewn across tables and desks, tome on ancient magic lying near his beside. He shook his head in mock sadness. "Sentiment," he murmured. "It's a dangerous affliction. Wouldn't you say, Allfather?" Without turning around, he addressed the man who had entered the room unheard by both of the guards, who jumped.

"I would say that sentiment is one of the more valuable things we have," Odin answered quietly.

"A fool's words," Loki snorted, turning to face the Allfather, a carefully constructed mask on unconcern in place.

"Some would call me so," he agreed, noting Loki's surprised blink as his mask slipped. "I have not made myself beloved among all realms. Many would call me a fool for doing so."

"And yet, you are a beloved king."

"They trust me to do the right thing. Sentiment, again. It is what keeps us from falling."

"Sentiment is what made me fall," Loki countered.

"No, it was an old man's foolishness," Odin said softly. "Loki, I-"

"Spare me your pity, Allfather," Loki said, though there was less venom in his words than he would like.

"There is no pity in my words, Loki. Only regret."

"Regret that your plans never came to fruition?"

"Regret that I was not a better father to you."

There was a long, shocked silence as Loki digested his words. His face was carefully neutral, betraying none of the shock he felt. Of all the things there were to apologize for, this was the apology he had least expected to get.

"And…" Loki hesitated, then seemed to come to a decision. "I regret that I have not been a better son." Though the words were halting, there was enough honesty in them to render Odin speechless as well. In the silence that stretched afterwards, Loki prepared his story. "Come, sit, Allfather," he said briskly, breaking Odin's reverie. "I will tell you the tale you wished to know."

He folded his slim form gracefully into one of his armchairs, his chains rattling and shifting. Odin followed, sitting stiffly in the armchair opposite Loki. The fire crackled as Loki, for once in his life, struggled for words.

"It began, as you know, with my fall from the Bifrost. Following my pathetic attempts to prove myself worthy, I fell into the void and was swallowed up by it. There are things there, things that I do not speak of easily…"

* * *

When Loki fell, time itself seemed to stretch, leaving him behind as he fell into the void, Odin's words echoing in his ears.

"I could have done it! I could have done it, Father! For you!" His voice, hoarse from screaming, sounded desperate in his own ears. He expected something, anything, some show of understanding or acceptance in Odin's eyes. A smile crinkled his adoptive father's face, and Loki felt a surge of hope.

"No, Loki."

His heart seemed to stop in his chest. A lead weight dropped into his stomach, and he felt an ironic smile crawl its way onto his face. Then, the weight in his stomach became too much and his fingers loosened their grip on the shaft of Gungnir, and he fell.

Whether or not he intended to fall, he could not say. All he knew was that his fingers could no longer hold on, now when he knew now that the man he had called Father (he would not call him so anymore) believed he was worth nothing.

Falling was a relief, a final defiance of Odin's expectations. The void seemed to open to him, engulfing him in its depths and pulling him close.

He fell for so long that after a time, it began to be a struggle to remember his own name. The stars around him blurred, their light shifting and changing, until one by one, they began to fade. Then there was only darkness. Loki didn't even know if he was falling anymore, or if he was simply suspended in time and space.

In the darkness, Loki found his own darkness. He found the regret and anger that had festered in him, and fed it his fury at Odin's dismissal. It grew, devouring his jealousy and loneliness, becoming an all-encompassing mass in his chest.

In the darkness, Loki changed.

But what is darkness without light? In the midst of his fall, Loki saw a sudden burst of starlight, as though a faraway nebula had suddenly sprung into life. He cringed from it, shielding his eyes from the harsh light. After so long in darkness, it nearly blinded him, but after a few moments, he was able to lower his arms, blinking cautiously as his eyes slowly adjusted.

Starlight. He had nearly forgotten what it looked like. All he could do was stare, like a moth transfixed by a flame. Unbidden, his hand reached out to touch it, only to fall back as the light intensified, curling around his face as the stars blazed around him.

After a few moments, the light died, fading to a slight glow. Loki uncurled and stared as flickering shadows appeared on the lights. They were as mesmerizing as the lights had been, and all he could do was stare as they grew larger and larger, eventually blocking out the light entirely. The darkness, ever persistent, returned.

But this time, Loki was not alone. He could feel them, skittering over the edges of his perception. They were innumerable and nearly insubstantial, mere wisps of shadow. And they gathered, swarming around him, blocking out any escape. He thrashed, seeking to break through them, but they latched onto his arms and legs, and Loki screamed as they began to glow as the stars had glowed, heating up alarmingly quickly, burning through his clothes and skin. He howled, struggling harder, but only succeeded in making more of them latch on. The sickening scent of burned skin filled the air.

With the last of his strength, Loki drew his magic around him in a cloak, trying desperately to push them away from him to stop the pain.

Nothing happened.

If anything, the burning got more intense, his arms and legs reduced to charred stubs. The wisps swarmed up him, seeking more flesh to burn. He screamed again, louder, and went for his last resort: blood magic. With no time for a seal, Loki sank his teeth into his lip and bit as hard as he could, the coppery taste of blood filling his mouth within seconds. He drew on the energy there and created a hasty and ill-formed teleportation spell.

It dragged him from the void and dumped him in the cesspits of the universe, the barren realms that even scavengers avoid. He flickered between the realms for a moment, always dreading the familiar and once-comforting tug of teleportation, screaming in fear as he reentered the void. The moment he crossed over, the wisps swarmed again, their heat biting into his already destroyed limbs. Then, relief as he was sucked back out and deposited on some desolate moon. He spat out the mouthful of blood and just lay there, breathing hard for a long moment. There was blessedly cool air all around him, soothing the horrific burns that covered his body. Already, the scattered remnants of his magic strained to heal them, closing the skin over the burns. With rest, he should be fine. However, his charred limbs would not regenerate without outside help. Loki rolled over onto his back and groaned as pain shot through his thin frame. His eyes flickered shut as exhaustion overtook him, dragging him deep into sleep. There was no rest for him there.

Nightmares plagued him, tormenting him and poking at old wounds.

Some took the form of Thor, claiming that he never loved him, that Loki was merely a tool with which to make himself look better. With a crown sitting proudly on his head and his cape sweeping impressively behind him, Thor walked away. Loki screamed for him to come back, pleading with him, but Thor never stopped.

Others took the form of Odin and Frigga discussing him, how disappointed they were that he was not a warrior, that he was not like Thor, how disgusted they were that he was not Aesir. Loki looked on silently, tears rolling down his face.

Still more were twisted mockeries of Hel, his only daughter, sneering at him, calling him a father worse than even Odin. He was nothing to her, she said. Nothing at all. She would be better off without him.

Loki woke from his tormented sleep with a scream.

He had no idea how much time had passed, but his arms and legs were nearly as healed as they could be without help, so it must have been almost a day. His magic still felt weak and faint, but it would be enough for his purposes.

For the first time, he took a good look at his arms and legs and almost threw up. They still looked like a roast boar left on the spit too long, blackened and burned beyond recognition.

Rolling onto his side, he bit into his already swollen and sore lip, squeezing the blood from the wound out of his mouth and onto the ground, maneuvering so that it formed a small, rough circle. With the stump of his left arm, he drew rough, almost unintelligible symbols around it. He twisted his head as far as it would go and did his best to get at least a drop of blood onto both of his arms and legs. The needed incantation rose to his mind, and he let it flow from his bleeding lips. The circle of blood on the ground and the surrounding symbols lit up with an eerie red light and expanded to encompass the points of blood on his limbs. Then, the glow turned gold, and Loki howled as the flesh of his arms and legs softened like candle wax. It twisted and spun, elongating itself into limbs that thrashed and shook as Loki writhed in agony. It seemed to go on forever. Then, abruptly, it stopped, and Loki lay in a trembling heap on the ground, whimpering to himself.

His newly formed arms and legs were as white as fallen snow, the new skin delicate and soft. His armor was in tatters, but he couldn't be bothered to repair it now. Exhaustion washed over him again and he slipped softly into dreamless sleep.

Loki woke later, stiff from lying on the cold, rocky ground of this realm. He slowly sat up, testing the range of motion of his new limbs and finding them weak, but adequate.

He stood, swaying with fatigue, and surveyed the area. It was mostly flat and featureless, the rocks covered in a thin layer of grey dust. Looking down, Loki saw that he was covered in the same fine grit. He rubbed it carefully with a finger and winced as the rough texture on new skin. No doubt he looked like a specter, with his dust-coated hair and skin.

Shaking his head to dispel foolish thoughts, Loki glanced around, looking for somewhere suitable for a temporary camp, somewhere to stay while he built up his strength. He found a shallow cave a few meters away that suited his purposes, and settled into his, the fatigue building up in his bones again. His magic was still severely depleted. He was unable to do much else but rest until he recovered further.

Scowling to himself, he closed his eyes and sought the sleep he knew would not come easily, not when the void haunted his thoughts.

* * *

Lots of Loki angst in this chapter! It'll get better for him later. Maybe not too soon in the future, but he'll eventually be happy, I promise.

Ok, there won't be another chapter for a couple of weeks. I'm leaving this Saturday at like 3 in the morning to go out to South Dakota for a service trip and I won't be back til late next Saturday. Sorry for the inconvenience!

On the other hand, I'm now a high school graduate (as of tomorrow, that is) so I'll have nothing to do and lots of time to write! That means quicker chapter updates!

Those of you who read the first iteration of this story will notice a few drastic changes in the next few chapters (and even this one). I'm going for quality rather than quantity in terms of worlds that Loki gets tossed into, so it'll move a little more quickly there.

Thank you so much for being patient! I hope you enjoyed this update. Please review! It makes this writer ever so happy, and happy writers write faster.


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